


Part Of Your World

by lisachan



Series: Leoverse [226]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisachan/pseuds/lisachan
Summary: For Adam, becoming part of Jesse’s world has been a matter of learning and adapting.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Leoverse [226]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/30541
Kudos: 1
Collections: COWT - Clash Of the Writing Titans/Chronicles Of Words and Trials





	Part Of Your World

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING:** This story is an **AU** from the original 'verse. What happens in here has little to none correlation with what happens in Leonard Karofsky-Hummel VS The world or Broken Heart Syndrome. The characters involved are (mostly) the same, but situations and relationships between them may be completely different.  
> Another year's passed and another COWT came, and this is week 1 and I'm writing on my babies in this universe once more... writing more or less the same story I did last year, but with some more depth. And some more smut, just because. (Not nearly enough smut, though. Not nearly enough.) Prompt this time was just BDSM, I chose it.  
> Enjoy~

For Adam, becoming part of Jesse’s world has been a matter of learning and adapting.

He has always been pretty confident in himself. He always knew himself far better than anyone else could know him, he’s never been the kind to lie to himself, of whom it was possible to say he didn’t know what he liked and what he wanted from life. He’s always had a clear path ahead of him, as clear as the one he had left behind his shoulders as he walked forward in life.

He was an only child. He had a mother working two jobs to keep the family afloat. He had a dead father he remembered nothing about, but that he loved dearly because his mother still did. He had a wallet with a picture of his parents, happy, together, taken by his granddad for his dad’s last leave before he was send back to Iraq and the lone, wrecked village that would be the theater of his death. He had a best friend with whom he’d been close since kindergarten, and that he loved like a crazy person. He needed to be good at school because he needed to gain the scholarships that he needed to keep attending. He would go to Art Academy and become the artist he knew in himself he had always been. He’d become a good photographer, too, so that he could work with his art and finance himself for his true passion, his paintings. He’d have lived in Lima all his life, close to where his heart had always been. And that would have been his life. No surprises there.

Then he met Jesse, and everything changed. 

Jesse is the kind of emotional trainwreck you cannot turn away from. When Adam first saw him in the pen at the PoP, he was trying to get into some Masterless half drunk cub, and he had been warned twice already that he had to tone it down if he didn’t want to be kicked out of the place, but he kept insisting. Adam didn’t know it back then, but that was because Jesse didn’t care about being kicked out of anywhere. He didn’t care about following the rules and he didn’t care about doing what could have preserved his well-being, such as for example avoiding being kicked out of a warm club to end up biting the snow at three in the morning outside.

He didn’t care because he was resolute about not taking care of himself. Because that’s one thing Jesse does not do. He is reckless and he is fascinating, he’s as dangerous and mesmerizing as a vortex pulling you down to the core of the ocean, and just like a comet he’s on a path of self-disintegration that needs someone else to be stopped.

That night, Adam saw him and consciously didn’t know any of this, but unconsciously read it all on his body, in his expression, in his glassy eyes. And immediately decided he wanted to be the one to stop Jesse’s flight towards self-disintegration. And the reason was simple – purely artistic: Jesse just looked to beautiful to accept watching him destroy himself.

Beauty has always been the primal motor behind the vast majority of Adam’s actions. He remembers himself approaching very few people in his short life, but all of those approaches were prompted by him seeing beauty in them – the kind of beauty that makes your chest feel compressed and shrinks your stomach into a nut. The kind of beauty that makes you feel humbled the miraculous geometry of Mother Nature, the kind of beauty that makes you want someone in the purest of ways, that makes you want to feel someone in your soul. Connected to you.

Jesse had the decadent, sickly, wrecked and shameless beauty of a Toulouse Lautrec painting. Watching him opened the doors to a world of promises, numbness and dirt. Adam remembers himself swallowing upon seeing him being roughly conducted out of the pen and chained to an empty table in a corner by the dungeon master in charge for the night. He was left kneeling there, alone, all night, and his eyes never left the floor, but they were empty, devoid of any emotion. He was a curse incarnate, and like all curses a part of you always hope to catch it. Curses are magical and so is the pain they procure. It’s always worth it to hurt because of something magic.

So he approached him. Not right away, he asked about him first, and everybody told him to stay away. Leo, Blaine, anyone else he asked. He’s more than you can chew. You can’t handle who doesn’t want to be handled. He’s too scarred. Beyond relief. Beyond redemption. There’s nothing you can do for him.

But Adam did not believe that. He didn’t believe in people ever being beyond anything if they were still alive. He still had room to work, if he could intervene before Jesse – accidentally or on purpose – suddenly offed himself.

So he pushed through anyone’s protests and resistance. He asked Blaine, what is it that I need to enter his orbit? Not to fix him – he knew Blaine didn’t have that knowledge, or he’d have used it himself already – but just to get close to him. A part of him knew for sure that if he got close enough he could’ve cracked Jesse’s mystery himself. He could’ve found the antidote for the poison he himself was pumping through his own veins. He just needed to see him up close.

“On your knees,” he says, and watches him go down on the floor, his arms crossed behind his back, his eyes still firing thunders. On nights like this, when Jesse doesn’t cooperate, when he keeps kicking like a mule, when he refuses to submit no matter what, Adam’s always reminded of that first night in the PoP, of the wild animal he saw in that pen, a beast that didn’t care about self-preservation, defying all laws of nature.

They’ve been together a year, now, and Adam has cracked his mystery. Jesse doesn’t care about himself because he’s resolute on having someone else taking care of him. That’s what he did with Alan. That’s how he works. That’s what he expects from Adam – to be the one who will keep him within the line of sanity, because he cannot and will not do it by himself.

“You think you’re so good because you get me on my knees,” Jesse hisses, war in his eyes, knives in his voice, “You’re nothing. You make me feel nothing. You’re nothing.”

That’s the way Jesse gets when he’s possessed by grief. Spiteful, vengeful, mean. Why is he feeling like this today? Is it an anniversary? Is there something important Alan and him did or would have done in this specific day, some year in the past? Or did he just dream him, or did he just saw an old picture in his phone, or did he just remember him more intensely than he did the day before? It doesn’t matter and it would be pointless to investigate it. Adam doesn’t care about the contingent reason behind this attitude. He sees the big picture. He sees the reason why. And he sees the need behind Jesse’s insolence.

Correct me. Punish me. Break me. Make me feel something. Make me concentrate on something that’s not him. Take me back from the grave where I’ve been resting next to his invisible corpse, locked in his invisible coffin, for the last few hours.

Adam leans in on him and raises a hand, closing his fingers around a few strands of Jesse’s silky blonde hair. 

Then he pulls. 

Jesse hisses as he tilts his head backwards, trying to loosen the tension in his hair. But Adam keeps pulling. He kneels in front of him and he keeps pulling. “You’re letting your mouth run wild tonight, aren’t you?” he growls, inches away from Jesse’s lips. He calibrates the strength of his voice to sound just as rough as Jesse wants him to sound right now. “Do you want me to break your bones one after the other?”

“You couldn’t,” Jesse answers. Then he reconsiders. “You wouldn’t.”

“Test me,” Adam says, and reaches down to spank him. The collision between his stretched out fingers and the delicate, naked skin of Jesse’s thigh produces a sharp sound that echoes through the living room of this house too big and empty since Leo moved out to be with Cody. 

Jesse lets a small whimper pass through his pursed lips, and squeezes his eyes shut. Then he seems to relax as he breathes out, basking in the burning pain. “You can’t hurt me enough,” he whispers, “Not nearly enough to make me forget.”

“As I said,” Adam repeats, “Test me.”

He makes him turn around suddenly, putting him on all fours on the floor. Jesse doesn’t resist him, he complies and his body turn buttery in Adam’s hands. Pliable like modeling paste, he adapts to the new position like Adam had to adapt to a new way of life the minute he chose him in the crowd.

Then he starts spanking him. Hard and slow, always on the same spot. Jesse takes it silently in the beginning, but after the tenth slap he can’t hold it in any longer. He lets go of small hums and gasps that turns into whining and moaning after the thirtieth. His skin changes color, pink to red, then even redder, and he starts squirming, but he does not withdraw. He submits himself to the pain because past the point of physical discomfort it takes him to a new realm where he doesn’t have to worry about anything except that specific pain. Something real, something circumscribed to this moment. The perfect ally in the constant war he fights against the nameless, boundless pain of having lost the love of his life.

Adam keeps spanking him for as long as Jesse can bear it. His arms become weaker, after a while, and he leans down on the floor, moaning under his breath, spilling a few tears. Only then Adam slows down. He progressively waits for a longer time in between spanks until he doesn’t spank him anymore, and then he keeps his hand on Jesse’s buttock, rubbing it mercilessly, even if Jesse complains because, with his skin burning like that, being touched so delicately is nothing but torture.

“Are you gonna be more complacent, now?” he asks softly, leaning in on him and whispering in his ear, “Are you gonna be a good boy?”

Jesse shakes his head resolutely, squeezing his eyes shut. “Never,” he says.

Adam sighs. There’s some extra effort needed, tonight.

He moves up on his knees and slowly takes off his belt. He can feel the anticipation mount underneath Jesse’s skin, he can see it in the way his whole body shivers lightly. He brings his arms behind his back, joins his wrists together and ties them up with the belt, as tightly as possible.

With Jesse it’s not just a question of needing to be taken care of. It’s the need to feel no escape from being taken care of. He must see he has no other choice than submit to that care. Otherwise he won’t accept it.

“Is this better?” Adam asks in a low growl, letting his hands slide down his skinny sides and then close around his hips, “Are you gonna be a good boy, now?”

Jesse doesn’t answer, and Adam knows it’s because he doesn’t wanna say yes. So he doesn’t force it out of him. He smiles and keeps him there, bent forward, his face against the floor. It’d be easy to fuck him, right now. Just move with the flow of the scene and give him some easy, quick relief. But that’s not what Jesse needs, right now. He needs the special care that takes care of his pain, together with his pleasure.

So he leans into him and whispers. “You’re gonna spend the night on the floor, baby,” he says, kissing his way up his face and to his lips, “You’re gonna stay here and think on your behavior, and think about how lucky you are to have a good Master like me, who will still want to be with you in the morning, despite that attitude of yours.”

He watches him, and it’s not hard to see he’s crying. He’s biting at his bottom lip and huge, glossy tears are rolling down his face, pooling on the tiled floor. “Yes, Master,” he whimpers, and he finally turns to look at him, his eyes red and puffy, his breath a little labored. “Thank you.”

Adam smiles and leans in, kissing him on his forehead. Then he stands up, not another word for him, and leaves the room, turning the lights off.

Later in the night, around three or four AM, he’s going to sneak out of the bedroom and back into this living room. He’ll find Jesse asleep on the floor, probably collapsed out of exhaustion, and he’s going to gather him in his arms and carry him to the bed, where he will free his wrists and tuck him in. He’ll slip under the covers next to him and he’ll hug him tight, and Jesse will cling to his body unconsciously and never let him go for the rest of the night.

In the morning they will wake up, and they’ll have learned something new about one another. Another little piece of the thread connecting them. They’ll have tested its strength. They’ll have adapted, once more, to embrace each other’s pain, each other’s struggle.

And they’ll be even more part of one another’s world.


End file.
